


stand still

by eyeronicmuch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, taeyong is going thru it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeronicmuch/pseuds/eyeronicmuch
Summary: Five time Yuta asks Taeyong out, and one time Taeyong does.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 36
Kudos: 231





	stand still

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to vee for helping me with this love you lots

1.

It’s not uncommon that Taeyong finds himself at a party without actually partying. He’s standing in the corner with a cup of beer in his hand, bored out of his mind. The clock at his phone shows it’s only ten in the evening, and at that Taeyong groans. He thinks he’ll leave early tonight, no matter what Doyoung says.

At some point he feels a presence near him, but Taeyong doesn’t think it’s important enough to stop scrolling through his instagram feed. Although, when he’s about to sip on his beer he notices his cup is empty.

“Want some more?” The presence next to him is of a man with a beer bottle in his hand. 

“Sure,” Taeyong says. He extends his cup and the young man fills his cup. 

“What do you study?” he asks, suddenly engaging in small talk.

“Uh. Law. You?”

“Marketing.”

“Nice.” Frankly, Taeyong couldn’t care less, but he wouldn’t say that aloud. But what he does care about, is that he has never noticed this young man at Johnny’s parties before, and Taeyong is pretty good with faces. “Are you new here?”

“Yeah,” the boy says, “I’m an international student.”

“Nice,” Taeyong says again. He takes notice of the boy’s smile. It’s too wide, too sober for a party like this. 

“What’s your name?” he gets asked.

“Taeyong,” Taeyong replies, half-interested. “And yours?”

“Yuta.” Yuta sticks out a hand for a handshake. Taeyong shakes it, notices the grip is tight. Yuta is still smiling sweetly. Taeyong really isn’t a fan of small talk.

“Are you here alone?” Yuta asks. He’s talkative, Taeyong thinks. 

“Currently, yeah. I came here with my friend, but he dipped not long ago. I think I’ll go home soon, though.”

“Oh, I see. Do you live in the dorms?” 

“Yeah. In the Blue residency.”

“I live in the Green one. Do you want me to walk you back?”

Taeyong says, “It’s alright, I can go by myself.”

“I was thinking of ditching the party, too.”

“Oh. In that case, let’s go.”

The air is cool outside. It sobers Taeyong up, even though he didn’t drink that much. Yuta is walking beside him, only a light coat over his hoodie. He asks Taeyong mundane questions that Taeyong answers half-heartedly. It’s not long before they reach Taeyong’s residency. 

“Well, that’s my stop.”

Yuta nods. “It was nice talking to you tonight.”

“It was,” Taeyong says. He opens the door to the residency, and is about to step in, but Yuta grabs him by the wrist, making Taeyong turn back.

“I was wondering– would you like to meet up sometime? Grab a coffee or something.”

Taeyong musters up the politest smile possible. He always feels bad turning people down, no matter how many times in happens. “Look, Yuta, you’re a nice dude, but I’m not interested.” 

“Oh,” Yuta’s hand falls back. “That’s valid. Yeah. No worries.”

“Sorry,” Taeyong says apologetically. “I’m sure there are many people who are willing to go out with you.”

“I mean,” Yuta says, “they’re not you.”

Taeyong blinks, taken aback. “You don’t know me.”

“We’re getting to know each other,” Yuta retorts. “It’s a start.”

Taeyong doesn’t know what to say. “Goodnight, Yuta.”

“Goodnight, Taeyong. See you around?”

“Maybe,” Taeyong replies. He bows a little and closes the door. He doesn’t look back as he walks up the stairs to his room. As he enters it, he hears Doyoung’s snoring right from the hallway. 

“He fucking left without me,” Taeyong mutters to himself. He notices how Doyoung is lying passed out on his bed with his sneakers on, so Taeyong dutifully takes them off and pulls a blanket over him.

The snoring can be heard even from his own room, however it doesn’t take long for Taeyong to fall asleep.

He wakes up with a dull headache. There are sizzling noises coming from the kitchen, so Taeyong assumes Doyoung is making breakfast for them both.

Doyoung sports a grumpy expression when Taeyong slides onto the kitchen stool. 

“My head is killing me,” he says, cracking more eggs onto the pan. “Just how much did I drink last night?”

“No idea. You came back first without me,” Taeyong says.

“I have so many regrets.”

“I told you not to drink too much,” Taeyong says, to which Doyoung shrugs. 

“Fridays are Fridays.”

“True.”

“Anyhow, did you get home safely last night?”

“It’s a bit too late to ask that,” Taeyong laughs, “but yes, a… boy I met walked me home.”

“Did he ask you out?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, “but I rejected.”

“Shame.” Doyoung says. “You haven’t dated in a while.”

Taeyong shrugs, “I’m flattered, but I’m just not interested in anyone.”

Doyoung serves him the eggs and bacon. “I don’t think I’m ready for our quiz on Monday.”

“Don’t go partying again, because I’m not going. Not until after midterms are over,” Taeyong says, separating egg yolk from the whites. He dumps the egg yolk over on Doyoung’s plate, and Doyoung laughs at that.

“What are you, five?”

“Shut up,” Taeyong says, chewing on the bacon. 

2.

College proves to be not as exciting as he was promised, but his expectations were never high. If he’s not studying in the library, he’s taking a three hour nap in his bedroom, and if he’s not napping, he’s studying in the library. There’s not much to do. He considers joining the Student Association, or getting a part-time job on campus, but honestly he can’t bother. Doyoung’s almost never around in their dorm, being busy with projects in the library, so Taeyong can bask in the quiet when he’s not around. 

Doyoung is a neat roommate, but he’s always on his phone, and their shared wall is too thin for Taeyong to not hear his annoying voice when he’s talking to his girlfriend at one in the morning. It drives Taeyong mad sometimes, but he can’t do anything. He’s talked to Doyoung about this multiple times since the semester started, and Doyoung has genuinely apologised, but it seems like he always forgets he has a roommate now. 

Taeyong doesn’t know if he likes Doyoung’s snoring better. 

They’re not really friends, but something like that. Doyoung cooks Taeyong breakfast every day to make up for making him stay up; Taeyong usually handles the laundry and the dishes, meanwhile Doyoung vacuums. It’s a nice balance– if not for the phone calls. Taeyong was close to punching Doyoung once – twice – and honestly whenever he sees Doyoung he thinks he does have a pretty punchable face, but Taeyong treasures his knuckles more. 

Taeyong calls his parents whenever he remembers to, which reduces his homesickness a lot. It’s been a couple of weeks since the semester started, and Taeyong’s doing pretty great academically. His grades are all in the 90s, he has a somewhat decent social life, and his will to live hasn’t depleted yet. 

It’s surprisingly stable for a couple of weeks. Taeyong thinks he’s doing alright. Maybe summer has given him a fresh mind, or because he’s left his parents’ home for his studies it’s like he’s left his past and his insecurities behind. 

But then midterms roll around, and everything topples over. He has a shit ton of theory to cram in very little time and he doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept more than four hours. Doyoung tones it down with his calls, which makes Taeyong think he _does_ indeed study and not just blabber all day. 

There’s a party Johnny hosts again after exams, and Doyoung drags Taeyong by the ear to it. 

“You haven’t talked to anyone in an entire week. Go make some friends.”

“You’re my friend.” Taeyong says, even though he doesn’t consider so. Doyoung made Taeyong lose too much sleep for Taeyong to call him a friend. Taeyong doesn’t hold it against him, it’s just there’s a tick of annoyance present every time he spends time with Doyoung that he can’t get rid of. Doyoung is a great person, he’s considerate, but also not, considering he forgets to let Taeyong sleep. Taeyong has given up on confronting him at this point.

Doyoung gives him a raised eyebrow. “Best friends forever, I know,” he mocks, “please, just go socialize.”

“You’re worse than my mom.”

“Shoo,” Doyoung says and disappears into the crowd. Taeyong’s head is already thumping from the music. He doesn’t know how Johnny does it – throwing parties so often, renting out free spaces so people could get shit faced and then cleaning up after them. Where’s the joy in that? Taeyong doesn’t understand. His eyes roam the crowd, and he spots a familiar face. 

Taeyong grimaces, but when Yuta spots him he fakes a smile. 

“Hey.”

“Hi!” Yuta says. “It’s been a while.”

“Sure has,” Taeyong replies. He half expected Yuta to be awkward around him, so it’s relieving that he’s not.

“Want some cider?” 

“Sounds good.”

There are way too many people in this little dorm room, but the music balances it out. Taeyong stands by the counter with the drinks and doesn’t make any effort to do anything more.

“Are you always this quiet?” Yuta asks. His expression is playful, so Taeyong doesn’t take offense.

“Most of the time, yeah,” he says, “I’m not much of a party person but it’s nice to go out once in a while.”

Yuta then asks, “Are you still not interested?”

It makes Taeyong face him fully. 

“You’re still on about that?” It’s been a couple of weeks. Taeyong has expected Yuta to move on long ago.

“You’re not giving me a no.”

“I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“And now?”

Taeyong laughs, “Yuta, you’re a persistent person.”

“I’ve been told,” Yuta says, a small smile on his face, “But again, you’re not flat out rejecting me. I can see it in your eyes. You’re lonely.”

Taeyong sighs. He glances at Yuta, takes in his long dark hair and wide eyes. He’s pretty, Taeyong thinks. Really pretty. If Taeyong were drunk, he would’ve given in, kissed him, maybe, but fortunately or not he’s rather sober. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Taeyong replies. The cider feels impossibly bitter on his tongue now and his mood dampens. 

Doyoung stops by the kitchen a moment later, cheeks red and words slurred.

“That’s my drunk roommate”, Taeyong says to Yuta. Then, “Doyoung, are you drunk?” 

“No, I’m not drunk,” Doyoung hiccups.

Taeyong says, “Then can you tell the time?”

Doyoung turns around and points a finger, and says slowly, “I don’t see a clock here.”

Yuta unlocks his phone and gives it to Doyoung.

“Ah, thank you,” Doyoung says. He points right at the screen, “I’m not drunk.”

“He’s absolutely wasted,” Yuta laughs, “And yet he’s standing. That’s incredible.” 

“I will punch him someday,” Taeyong grunts. He gives Yuta his phone back and slings Doyoung’s arm over his neck. “Let’s go back, big boy.”

Doyoung makes a sound of protest, “I came here to get more beer, not to go home.” Taeyong pinches his nose.

“Want me to help?”

Taeyong wants to say no, but Doyoung is heavy and he doesn’t think he can carry him all the way back alone. “Please.”

Yuta nods and takes Doyoung by his waist, and they both stumble out. Doyoung grumbles all the way back about something Taeyong can’t understand, and it’s a huge pain to drag Doyoung up the stairs, but they manage. 

“I’m so sorry to have you roped into this,” Taeyong says while fumbling to open the door to their room. Yuta has all of Doyoung’s weight on himself for that moment, and Taeyong is actually surprised how he hasn’t broke any sweat yet. 

“It’s no big deal,” Yuta laughs, “Shit happens.” 

Taeyong lays Doyoung down on his bed, feeling a sense of déjà vu when he pulls off Doyoung’s sneakers again. He asks Yuta, “Would you like some tea or something? It’s pretty late.”

“It’s chill,” Yuta replies. “I’ll just go to my dorm and crash.”

“Want me to, uh, walk you there?”

“It’s alright,” Yuta declines. “It won’t make any sense for you to out and then come back.”

“Okay,” Taeyong says, “Thanks a lot again.”

When Yuta is out of the door, he says, “I hope we can be friends, at least.” 

He doesn’t give Taeyong a chance to reply.

3.

Taeyong knows something is wrong judging by how when study week rolls around he can’t seem to leave his bed. The feeling of emptiness comes as sudden as Taeyong thought it had left him the summer before the semester started. And now that it’s back, Taeyong just lies on his bed and stares at his ceiling, processing everything. He thinks, the feeling will never leave him. Wherever he goes, hollowness will follow him, waiting for a chance to wrap itself around his heart and feel heavy. Taeyong feels _exhausted_ , and he just woke up. When he checks the clock, it’s 3 in the afternoon. 

He emerges to the kitchen feeling like actual crap. His breakfast is on the table, lying cold and untouched. Taeyong heats it up, eats it silently and goes back to his bed. At some point, he drifts off, because when he wakes again because of Doyoung’s phone calls, the sky outside is dark. Doyoung at least has the decency to not bug Taeyong about him shutting himself in his room, because he has no answers for him. He’s just tired. Taeyong closes his eyes, and sleeps until it’s morning.

Maybe it’s on the third day of Taeyong’s hibernation when he hears a knock at his door.

“Taeyong?” comes Doyoung’s voice through the wall, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, “I’m good.”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry, sorry. I’ll eat it later.”

“You haven’t been out of your room in two days.”

“I was working on some stuff,” Taeyong says.

“Okay.”

He hears silence, then footsteps shuffling. For a second, Taeyong wonders whether Doyoung will come inside and ask him what’s wrong. But the footsteps only become quieter and Taeyong exhales a sigh of relief. He scrolls through his instagram feed, seeing all of his acquaintances hanging out together during the break, and with a bitterness on his tongue he falls back asleep. 

Post-midterm lectures are rough. 8am classes seem unbearable and the work load gets heavier. Taeyong stares at his notes and realizes he’s written nothing useful. It’s funny, Taeyong thinks, how easy it is to go back to square one, have all your efforts go down the drain like nothing. One day Taeyong was doing well, now he’s not. Taeyong stares at the window for the rest of the lecture.

After it, he gets himself some coffee and goes down to the library. He loses track of time, reviewing lecture notes and doing quizzes, and by the time he reaches his dorm the sky is dark again and Taeyong realizes he hasn’t eaten. 

The kitchen is lit up, however. Taeyong sees Doyoung sit by the table, looking at something on his phone. When he notices Taeyong walk in, he looks up.

“Taeyong, hey,” he says.

“Hey, man.” Taeyong drops his backpack like it’s the heaviest thing in the world and sloppily takes off his sneakers. 

“I cooked dinner for you,” Doyoung says.

“Oh. I– Why?”

“You haven’t been eating properly,” Doyoung points out. “I worry.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says. He thinks his face looks queasy. The last thing he wants to do is worry someone. “I appreciate the gesture, but I really am okay. I ate already.”

“Look,” Doyoung says. “If you’re going through a lot currently, it’s okay. I can handle the chores for the time being and cook you lunch and dinner, like it’s okay, you know? I don’t mind. I like cooking and cleaning. Just tell me if you want anything.”

“You’ll make a perfect housewife,” Taeyong jokes, smiling a little. 

Doyoung buys it. He grins. “I know, I get that a lot.” 

“Thank you, really,” Taeyong says, “But again, I’m fine.” 

“What I’m saying is,” Doyoung sighs, “You don’t have to go through things alone.”

Taeyong nods. “Thanks, Doyoung.”

He slips through the door and closes it. 

The rest of the semester passes by in a blur, because Taeyong stops keeping track. His routine is of the following: lectures, library, sleep – with a little of variations occasionally. Finals come and go, and Taeyong does not feel lighter knowing he completed another year of college. He often thinks, what is he doing here? He doesn’t care about law. And yet he’s here, working for a degree he doesn’t even want. It sounds ridiculous, even to Taeyong.

He doesn’t go home for the holidays, but he does go to a New Years party because Doyoung pleads him to. 

“Please,” Doyoung clasps his hands in front of Taeyong and stands on his knees. “Knowing me I’ll get wasted and I won’t find my way back to the dorm. Who knows what will happen to me.”

“You’ll become food for the squirrels.”

“Exactly!” Doyoung begs, “Who will cook for you if I’m squirrel food.”

Taeyong sighs. He really wanted to binge watch documentaries today. “Sure.”

“Hell yes!” Doyoung says. “Dress well, it’s a big party, after all.”

Taeyong forces himself to dress up. He washes his hair for the first time in a while and goes through his clean clothes. Thankfully, Doyoung did the laundry for them again, so Taeyong picks out a warm outfit. It’s winter, after all.

The party is already in full swing once they arrive. There’s a steady crowd already formed and the smell of alcohol and weed is everywhere. He and Doyoung play beer pong to pass the time, which they win, and then Doyoung starts talking to his classmates, so Taeyong opts to raid the kitchen. He makes small talk with some people, but the conversations just fly over his head. 

He pours himself a beer and just stands, like he always does. He doesn’t even look at his phone. He really doesn’t want to be here, Taeyong thinks. It’s not like him, but he keeps drinking. A cup of wine, then another, then a beer, then martini. He stands in the corner, as far away from the speakers as possible, and watches over Doyoung from time to time. Doyoung looks like he’s having the time of his life. Taeyong wishes he could relate, but he finds it hard to talk to people freely. He also sees Yuta – Yuta appears to always be present during parties – talking to people Taeyong doesn’t know. Again, Taeyong thinks of what he himself is doing here, wasting his evening not socialising. Yuta did always seem talkative to him. He has this enigmatic aura around him, that simply draws people in. He’s friendly, kind, handsome, Taeyong can’t understand what Yuta sees in him. 

Taeyong wonders for a moment, maybe Yuta has lost interest in him by now, he should have, but then their gazes meet from across the room. It’s brief, like an accidental glance, but it also definitely just happened. Taeyong takes a gulp. He doesn’t look Yuta’s way anymore. 

On his fifth refill Yuta walks up to him.

“Whoa, are you trying to give yourself alcohol poisoning?” he says instead of a greeting.

“You’ve been looking at me,” Taeyong comments.

“Just like you at me.”

Taeyong smiles at that. “You look good.”

“You look sad,” Yuta says.

“I’ll take as a compliment.” Taeyong takes a sip of his martini.

“It’s not,” Yuta says. He takes Taeyong’s martini and replaces it with water. “You should drink water.” 

“I’m fine,” Taeyong says. It’s a default phrase by now. 

Yuta pats his shoulder sympathetically. It shouldn’t burn, but it does. 

“How were finals?”

“Manageable. I’m glad they’re over.”

“Same,” Yuta laughs, “I barely had time to sleep.”

Taeyong nods in understanding. “Want a drink?” he asks.

“Sure.” 

Taeyong pours a martini and for a while they just chat. It’s not uncomfortable, and that’s what throws Taeyong off. It should be. He was actually feeling uncomfortable before Yuta started conversing with him. It’s weird, Taeyong thinks to himself, but he thinks he doesn’t regret coming here anymore.

At some point, Johnny comes around. He has a polaroid in his hands and he asks whether they want their picture taken, as a memory. Yuta excitedly says yes and he throws his arm over Taeyong’s neck. They stand close and Taeyong makes an awkward peace sign, too distracted by Yuta’s cheek pressing into his. Johnny snaps a photo, then he snaps one with Yuta, then with Taeyong. After all three of them take a polaroid together, Doyoung comes around for a picture, and then more and more people, and then Johnny has everyone lined up for a huge group New Year’s photo. Taeyong sticks close to Yuta throughout it. Yuta has his arm hovering over Taeyong’s waist, but not quite touching it. 

“Want to go to the balcony for a breather?” he asks, noticing Taeyong’s discomfort because of the crowd.

“Sure.” Taeyong says. 

“If it’s cold, we can go back.”

“Yeah.” It makes Taeyong a bit lightheaded at how considerate Yuta always is. Yuta has no reason to be nice to a stranger, but he is, and Taeyong’s heart warms, for some reason. 

The air is fresh by the balcony. It’s not as cold as Taeyong thought it’d be. There’s no snow outside, but it’s okay. The sky is cloudy, like a blotch of the ugly mix of black and grey, and Taeyong would rather look at anything else but that depressing thing. 

“How you been?” Yuta asks him. His cheeks colour pink from the cold; Taeyong thinks of offering Yuta his scarf. 

“I’ve been alright. And you? Are you cold?”

“I’ve been well, thanks. And I’m good. Some cold is good once in a while. It refreshes you up a lot.”

Yuta’s voice is soft. It’s calm and lulling, to some extent. It feels comforting to Taeyong, who craves comfort so much these days.

“Okay, you’ve got to tell me what’s up with you,” Yuta nudges him. “You’re making me sad, too.”

Taeyong lets out a sigh. His breath crystallises and fades away. “It’s… nothing much. Or no, maybe it’s a lot. I don’t know anymore.”

Taeyong feels his hands turn cold, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. It’s a better feeling than emptiness than numbness, Taeyong thinks. Or maybe they’re the same. 

Yuta says, “You can talk to me, you know.” 

“What’s my problems to a stranger? I’m sure you have enough on your plate.”

“Maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t care.”

“Care,” Taeyong repeats. “It’s a strong word.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Yuta says. “Not everything is complicated. Things can be simple. _You_ don’t have to be so complicated.”

Taeyong looks at Yuta, then at the sky. He thinks, if he looks hard enough, will he see the stars?

“Why won’t you let your walls down?” Yuta asks. He’s standing close. So close, their shoulders touch.

Taeyong shrugs. “I’m not an interesting person,” he says.

“That’s not true,” Yuta interjects, “You’re very interesting to me.”

Taeyong smiles. “Once you realize there’s nothing more to me than meets the eye, you’ll see. You’ll regret even wasting so much time on me.”

“Don’t say that,” Yuta says. His voice is stern. “Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“I’m just saying how it is,” Taeyong says. “I’m a boring, empty person. A hollow shell, if you will. And that’s it.”

Yuta is still looking at him, and his eyebrows are creased. He looks upset, but not disappointed. “I hope you can see yourself the way I see you one day,” He says. 

There’s a countdown happening from the inside. 

“The fireworks will go off soon. We should go inside.”

“No,” Taeyong says. “The view here is better.”

“Don’t you feel cold?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong nods, “It’s been a while since I felt anything.”

People inside the dorm start counting down from ten in anticipation. Taeyong feels Yuta smile with excitement. It’s a gorgeous sight: Yuta’s smile. Taeyong is drunk. He’s definitely drunk. And cold. And _numb_. 

When the countdown reaches one and people start cheering _Happy New Year_ , Yuta turns to him; their faces are so close together, Taeyong thinks it would be easy to lean in. He wonders if he would feel anything, like warmth in his chest or a burst of fireworks that like now are bursting in the sky. 

So he leans in, for the hopes of feeling _something_ that would make him feel alive, but Yuta puts a hand on his lips. When Taeyong opens his eyes, Yuta is frowning.

“Don’t do this to yourself. You don’t mean this.”

The fireworks make it hard to hear.

“How can you know that?”

“You don’t like me that way.” 

They keep bursting and coming down in sizzles.

“Do you?”

Yuta’s frown deepens. “Don’t do this to _me_.” 

“You said you wanted to be friends,” Taeyong says.

“Because you say you’re not interested. Are you?” 

Taeyong doesn’t say anything at that. Both he and Yuta pull away from each other. 

“Let’s go inside,” Taeyong says awkwardly. “I can’t feel my hands anymore.”

They find Doyoung, surprisingly sober enough, in the living room. He has a party hat on his head. At least he looks like he’s having a good time. 

“Taeyong! Yuta! Happy New Year!” he cheers, blowing a blowout. His smile drops as soon as he sees the expression on Yuta and Taeyong’s faces.

“What happened?”

“Take him home, please,” Yuta says.

“I will, but are you alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, just make sure Taeyong is okay,” Yuta waves him off. Doyoung fetches Taeyong’s coat and helps him put it on.

“My goodness, you are freezing. Are you drunk? When he reach home I’ll draw you a hot bath.”

“I’m sorry to make you leave the party early like this,” Taeyong says. He’s exhausted. 

“It’s cool, I wasn’t that into it, honestly. I’m getting sleepy. Maybe my old age is kicking in.”

At that Taeyong laughs, then sneezes. 

Doyoung looks like he wants to reprimand him, but holds his tongue back. The walk to their dorm is long enough to get Taeyong to freeze again. He thinks, physical numbness is very unpleasant, but the way Yuta looked dejected hurts much more.

4.

Spring comes again. Seasons come and ago, and that’s their beauty. Taeyong is still as swarmed with assignments as he was before, if not more. He thinks he’s reached peak exhaustion with this year of university, but no matter how much he bends he won’t break. He certainly feels like he might, though. 

He hasn’t seen Yuta since the New Year’s party. It should make Taeyong feel relieved, but he feels longing instead. Longing for what? He doesn’t know. He stopped going to parties for the time being, and those were the only places where he and Yuta ever crossed paths. It feels like they exist in separate dimensions outside of them. It feels like their dimensions never should have crossed at all in the first place.

Where Taeyong is closed, Yuta is open, where Taeyong is quiet, Yuta is loud, where Taeyong is frowning, Yuta is smiling. It’s these little surface level differences that irk Taeyong about himself, make him think about why he is the way he is. He’s not outgoing or friendly like Yuta, and yet he has Yuta’s interest. It doesn’t add up. There must be a flaw in the equation somewhere.

He can’t say he and Yuta are friends. They’re not even acquaintances, but sometimes it feels like they’re more. Yuta makes Taeyong want to bare his soul, which is a frightening thing. If Taeyong does that, Yuta will surely leave him, just like everyone. Vulnerability, attachment – they’re scary things. So Taeyong avoids them. He’d rather not feel the happiness of a friendship rather than get hurt in the long run. It’s how things have always been for him. 

Still, sometimes he can’t help but want to know more about what kind of person Yuta is. Since Yuta claims that Taeyong is interesting, Taeyong can say the same thing about him. Yuta carries around a sense of purity with him, an untainted, youthful soul, a kindness that not many possess these days. They say eyes are a window to the soul; if that’s the case, Yuta’s soul must be beautiful. Taeyong wonders what his soul must look like to others. In the college bathroom mirror he looks at his dark eye bags. Tired, his soul is definitely tired. 

He stuffs his textbooks into his backpack and calls it a day. It’s half past seven, and Taeyong is getting hungry. He’s been eating better lately, thanks to Doyoung, so there’s one good thing going on, at least. 

On the way to the bus stop Taeyong bumps into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says. Then his eyes widen. He bumped into Yuta, and outside of a party, no less. Their dimensions must be colliding. Taeyong feels his heart grow warm and cold at the same time.

“Taeyong,” Yuta says brightly, “It’s been a while.” He has platinum silver hair now. It’s a bit shorter, but it looks striking. Every time they see each other, Yuta looks better and better, meanwhile Taeyong looks worse. 

“Yeah…” Taeyong says. “It really has been. Where are you headed?”

“I wanted to go study in a café downtown. I heard it’s really productive; the library is too noisy.”

“But it’s late.”

Yuta shrugs. “I always study late. Want to come with?”

Taeyong shakes his head, “Sorry, I promised Doyoung I’ll be home soon. He cooked dumplings for me and he’ll be mad if I don’t eat them all.”

“That’s not a problem,” Yuta laughs. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong smiles.

“Also, Taeyong?”

“Hm?”

“Will you still not go out with me?”

Taeyong stammers. “Yuta…”

“It’s been a year, I know, so I was wondering whether your opinion would change.”

Taeyong sighs. “It wouldn’t.”

“That’s alright,” Yuta says. The bus approaches and he tells Taeyong to take care. Taeyong watches him get onto the vehicle and disappear out of view. 

Taeyong clenches his first. He walks to his residency feeling like shit and nothing less. 

“Alright, speak up,” Doyoung says during dinner. “You’re sour and I surely know it’s not because of my dumplings, because those are impeccable.”

“I’m not sour, I’m miserable,” Taeyong says.

“Well it’s not because of my food, is it?”

“No. It’s just…,” Taeyong hesitates, “am I a bad person?”

“Now that’s random, but no, I don’t think so, why?”

“I rejected Yuta again today,” Taeyong admits.

“Rejected? Yuta? Oh. I always did think you both had something going on.”

Taeyong pokes a dumpling. “We don’t.”

“Well, why did you reject him?”

“Because… I will disappoint him. Whatever he sees in me won’t match up to his expectations.”

Doyoung looks at him. “Is that how you think of yourself?”

“It’s how it always happens. Not once, not twice, have I been in those situations. People like me because of my looks, then once they get to know me they’re disappointed. It’s not nice, Doyoung, it only makes me think that I’m only my face.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong feels his appetite depleting. “I don’t know. A part of me feels like Yuta is different, but another part of me is just tired.”

“If Yuta has been running after you for so long he surely must be different.” 

“It won’t be long before he gives up. A man can take rejection only so many times.”

“Do you want him to stop?” Doyoung asks.

“I want him to do better. I mean, look at me. And look at him. He’s too good to me.”

“You deserve someone who will be good to you,” Doyoung says, “Sometimes all you need is support and comfort for things to be okay.”

Taeyong shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it once Yuta realizes I’m boring. I’m just waiting for the hourglass to fill up at this point.”

“But you don’t want him to stop, do you? You like him.”

“I don’t know.”

“If you didn’t, you would’ve told him to fuck off long ago,” Doyoung teases.

Taeyong says, “Ah, maybe. Honestly, I don’t know. He’s really really nice. Is that enough to like someone?”

“Why not? Attraction is simple. Feelings are simple,” Doyoung says. “You should finish your dumplings.”

“You’re talking to me like a child.”

“You act like one, sometimes,” Doyoung grins. 

“Well, sorry for my underdeveloped tastebuds. But why are you being so quiet recently? I haven’t been disturbed by your phone calls in a while. It feels weird to have uninterrupted sleep.”

“I got dumped,” Doyoung says, “So there’s no one to talk to anymore. Don’t worry about not sleeping peacefully.”

“I’m sorry.” Taeyong puts a hand over Doyoung’s. “You could talk to me, you know. Not at two in the morning, but I’m here for you man.”

Doyoung smiles at that. “Thanks, dude. It’s alright, honestly. I want to open a bottle of wine. Want to celebrate our broken hearts?”

“Always.”

5.

It feels like a tradition at this point, to party after midterms. Doyoung is ecstatic, eager to relax after a week of unbearable stress, and Taeyong thinks he could use it, too.

It’s a tradition at this point, too, to run into Yuta sooner or later at parties. This one is not an exception. Once Taeyong and Doyoung walk in Taeyong already sees Yuta there, as if his eyes were searching for him only. Doyoung nudges him with support, mouths him to get his shit together. Taeyong doesn’t think he can. If he could, he would’ve done it a long ago. Picked up the pieces after himself and placed them back where they belong. For years, they remain scattered and all over the place.

Yuta smiles his way, the same polite but warm way he always does, and Taeyong falters. Yuta shows so much genuineness to someone who has rejected him it makes no sense to Taeyong at all.

Yuta offers him a whiskey and Taeyong accepts. 

“Congrats on finishing the midterms,” Yuta says, “It was a wild week.”

Taeyong nods. “You look good,” he says. He does; Yuta shaved the sides of his hair and the undercut he rocks makes him look like an athlete. Taeyong tells him so.

“I am one,” Yuta laughs, “I’m on the college’s football team.”

“Wow. You learn something new every day,” Taeyong says. Football. Who would’ve thought? He can’t help but look down at Yuta’s legs. He looks very fit.

Yuta catches him checking him out. “Like what you see?”

“I always have.”

“Oh,” Yuta says, now unusually shy, “Thanks. You look good as well.”

“Not sad, at least,” Taeyong laughs, “that’s progress.”

“You don’t look sad,” Yuta shakes his head, “tired, maybe, but not sad.”

“Tiredness is a constant. Sadness is fleeting,” Taeyong replies. “I would like to think I’m doing better these days, although I know I’m not.”

“You’re trying,” Yuta says, “That’s what matters.”

Taeyong nods. “I see you’re quite good with words.”

Yuta says, “I just– I just want to know you. Truly know you. What you like and dislike, what makes you nostalgic, I want to know which music you fall asleep to, your childhood memories, what you find happiness in. There’s no such thing as someone being empty inside. Maybe you buried your interests deep down under yourself, maybe you’re just forgetting they exist. But Taeyong, I know you are beautiful inside.”

Taeyong doesn’t know why, but he cries. Shocked, Yuta leads them to a secluded room where no one is in. He sits Taeyong down on one of the sofas.

“Look at me,” Yuta says softly. “You are more than what you think you are.”

Taeyong stays silent. 

“You are more than your sadness and emptiness. You are a beautiful person, even if you don’t let others know so. You... you are not alone. You have me. You have Doyoung.”

Taeyong stays silent, too, when Yuta pulls him close.

Yuta has cool hands. Those cool hands thread through his hair in calming motions and then cup his cheek. Taeyong stills for a moment when he feels a thumb wiping a tear away. The touch is cold. Taeyong blinks, but says nothing. Yuta doesn’t speak either. Taeyong doesn’t dare look him in the eye, because if he does, he won’t be able to shake away the fondness he would see behind them, a fondness he doesn’t understand, hasn’t been able to understand for years now. As cold as Yuta’s touch is, it is also impossibly gentle; he cradles Taeyong’s face like it is porcelain, like something fragile and precious, and for a moment Taeyong thinks that he really ought to pull away by now, but deep down a part of him wants to cover his palm over Yuta’s and never let go.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Taeyong says.

“Okay.” Yuta’s hand finds its way back to Taeyong’s hair again. He strokes it softly, tenderly, and just from that Taeyong feels like crumbling. But also, for the first time in years, he feels at peace. 

+1

Time get more blurry with each day, and soon enough, it’s time for finals again. Taeyong thinks all he does is exist in between finals and lectures, like a formless entity that materialises only when it’s time to take a test. 

He loses tracks of what day of the week it is, and frankly, he doesn’t care anymore. After finals had finished, Taeyong called it a day and didn’t bother to get out of his bed. It’s then, when Taeyong is staring at the suspended ceiling above his bed that he comes to a conclusion that time is nothing. 

After what Yuta had said Taeyong spent hours in his mind trying to come up with counter arguments against him, to prove that Taeyong is not what Yuta thinks he is, but all he could realize is that feelings Yuta harbours for him are painfully genuine, and they have been all this time. Yuta was never after his looks, but his heart, and it’s a realisation that makes Taeyong incredibly embarrassed and guilty that he didn’t give Yuta the benefit of the doubt. It’s no surprise to him that he finds out he deeply likes Yuta too, probably has liked him since long ago, but was to stubborn to admit it. For feelings are a scary thing, and yet Taeyong ended up catching them.

Taeyong lies in his bed and thinks, what now? He should let Yuta know. It’s the least Yuta deserves. He will buy Yuta a bouquet and he’ll ask him out properly– no, he’ll apologize, and then confess, no–

It’s the knocking at his door that snaps him out of it.

“Yes?”

“I know it’s on a short notice, but there’s this farewell party happening, you might want to attend it,” Doyoung says.

“I’m not feeling well today,” Taeyong croaks back. He feels like crap. “You go on without me.”

“But…”

“Doyoung, today is not a good day.”

“Alright.” Taeyong hears shuffling, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing, and then silence. He falls asleep not long after that.

He wakes up later after his nap, feeling groggy and disoriented. He notices Doyoung still hasn’t come back. Taeyong thinks they’re too old to be partying, they’re about to enter their senior year after all, but old habits die hard, it seems. Taeyong makes himself some tea and drinks it when it’s too hot; he gets a snack and when he returns to his mug, the tea is lukewarm.

He scrunches his nose at the taste and then hears Doyoung stumble his way inside the hall. Taeyong gets up and catches him before the latter can fall.

“Taeyong, you’re a good friend,” Doyoung says, voice a bit slurred.

“Doyoung, you’re a borderline alcoholic, God, why did you drink so much?”

“It’s never ‘how are you, Doyoung,’ but always ‘why did you drink, Doyoung,’ huh?” Doyoung groans.

_“Doyoung!”_

“Come on, Taeyong, why wouldn’t I drink a lot at Yuta’s party? I consider him a friend.”

“What? Yuta’s party?”

“Yeah. His farewell party. I told you, but you said you were feeling like,” Doyoung hiccups, “like ass, so I went alone. Yuta says he will miss you.”

Taeyong drops Doyoung.

“Fuck! You didn’t say it was Yuta’s party. What the hell.”

”Ow,” Doyoung groans, “I guess that slipped my mind. Now my ass hurts.”

Taeyong drags Doyoung to his bed, helps him change, puts a glass of water and a packet of painkillers onto his bedside table and then practically scrambles out of his residency and runs to Yuta’s one. Yuta once told him his room number so Taeyong does his best to remember it. It takes while a while to find his room. He frantically rings the doorbell.

Jaehyun, Yuta’s roommate, opens it.

“Hi, Jaehyun,” Taeyong pants, “is Yuta here?” 

“Yeah, uh, in his room.” Jaehyun points to the left. The whole apartment looks trashed with remnants of the party, Taeyong notices. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to see him.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says, “Okay. I’ll be in my room then.”

When Taeyong stumbles into Yuta’s room he sees him packing two large suitcases. He opens the door with a bang at it makes Yuta almost jump out of his skin. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taeyong? Christ, you scared me.”

Taeyong asks again, “What are you doing?”

“Packing,” Yuta blinks. “For my flight.”

“You’re actually leaving?”

“Yeah,” Yuta says. “I mean, the four semesters are over for international students. I need to go back home now.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow? That can’t be. Tomorrow... Why haven’t you told me?”

Yuta scratches the back of his head, “I did tell Doyoung, I thought he would tell you.”

“God, Doyoung’s memory is of an old man’s!”

“Honestly,” Yuta bites his lip, “I thought you wouldn’t care.”

Taeyong walks back and hits the table. “What do you mean I wouldn’t care? How can I _not_ not care?”

Taeyong is only a meter away from Yuta, but it feels like there’s an ocean between them. 

Yuta straightens up after placing a bag of his clothes into his suitcase. He chews on his lip. “I mean... I don’t know, Taeyong. All these years I’ve shown interest in you, you always turned me down. What was I supposed to think?”

Taeyong can’t find the rights words to say. He wants to refute what Yuta had said, but Yuta is right. Taeyong has always rejected him. It makes sense for Yuta to feel like Taeyong doesn’t want him, even if it’s not the case.

“I... Let me drive you to the airport.”

Yuta shakes his head. “I’d rather you don’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re too cruel sometimes, Taeyong, Yuta says, sighing. “Don’t let my heart break any more. If you see me off at the airport, I’ll definitely cry.” Yuta laughs, but there’s no humour in his voice.

Taeyong clenches and unclenches his fists, realisation hitting him. Yuta is leaving, for god knows how long – for good, most likely – and there’s no chance for Taeyong to change anything. He’s too late.

He shakes his head in frustration. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. They should’ve had more time. More time for Taeyong to figure things out. 

“Are you going to just stand there?” Yuta asks. Taeyong gives him a helpless look. He wants to say many things: he wants to say he cares about Yuta, that he doesn’t want him to go, he doesn’t want Yuta to _leave_ him, but instead, he says: “Let me help you pack, at least.”

The silence that looms over them as Taeyong helps fold Yuta’s shirts is uncomfortable. The window is open, but Taeyong feels like he’s suffocating. Wordlessly, he watches the suitcases become stuffed with clothes and items, and Taeyong realizes he has limited hours left to _do_ something. 

He looks around Yuta’s room: it looks cozy and lived in. It’s tidy, too. There are band posters on the walls and piles of textbooks on his desk. He has potted plants on his windowsill and Taeyong notices there’s a toy on his bed, peeking out of the comforter. 

“Is this everything?” Taeyong asks. It’s been a while, and the first suitcase is full and closed.

Yuta stretches his limbs, obviously tired. He stifles a yawn. “I think there’s more stuff in my drawers.”

Taeyong nods, opening the top one by the bed. He comes across a bunch of miscellaneous things, like pens and notes and– polaroids. Of him and Yuta. Yuta has his arm around Taeyong’s neck and their cheeks are pressed together. It looks like it was taken during the New Years party before the fireworks. Taeyong didn’t know Yuta kept it all this time. 

“What are you looking at?” Yuta asks walking up to him, then his eyes drop to the polaroid in Taeyong’s hands. He takes it from him. A small smile settles on his face. 

“This is quite embarrassing,” he says. His usually fond eyes look sad at this moment. 

“You kept these?”

“Johnny gave them to me,” Yuta says. He puts one polaroid in his wallet and says, “There are two of them. If you want one… No, just take it.”

Taeyong takes it with shaking arms. It’s a similar-looking polaroid, with Yuta and him standing close. Yuta has a wide grin on his face and even Taeyong is smiling for once. And then it hits him, this polaroid is the only evidence of their friendship. 

“Will you miss me?” Taeyong asks, not looking away from the photo. He feels like crying all of a sudden. This is all too much. 

Yuta says, “You know, if you want me to stay...”

“But you bought the tickets,” Taeyong interrupts, “your flight is literally tomorrow, I–”

“Taeyong,” Yuta says. He looks tired. “Just say what’s on your mind. Just this once, be honest.”

“I don’t want to hold you back.”

“A final rejection?” Yuta smiles. “I’ll take it.”

Taeyong bites his lip so hard it almost bleeds. He can’t hold Yuta back. Yuta is someone alluring, energetic, with a bright future ahead of him. He’s everything Taeyong isn’t, and Taeyong isn’t one to pull Yuta into his miserable hole. He wants to see Yuta in the light, as that’s where he belongs. In the light, surrounded by good people. Not _him_. Taeyong won’t do Yuta good. He’s not enough. 

Understanding that Taeyong won’t say anything back, Yuta sighs and resumes packing. Taeyong takes out the rest of the stuff from Yuta’s drawers and dumps them on the bed, then sorts them into plastic bags. Yuta doesn’t look at him for the rest of the hour.

When they’re done, Yuta offers Taeyong tea, and Taeyong stays. Anything to prolong time. Yuta won’t meet his eye, still. Taeyong doesn’t blame him. He’s rejected him again, in a sense. 

The tea Yuta makes is perfectly sweet, and just the thought of Taeyong never sitting in Yuta’s dorm room on a metal chair drinking hot tea out of an old mug makes Taeyong feel more hollow. 

The clock in the living room ticks too loudly. When it strikes nine, Yuta says, “I’m going to head to sleep now. I don’t sleep well on planes, so,” he shrugs.

“Oh, okay,” Taeyong walks the door. He slips on his sneakers and grabs his coat. When he ties his shoelaces, he sees Yuta looking at him expectedly. Taeyong straightens up. It’s awkward.

“Thanks for helping me pack,” Yuta says first.

Taeyong nods. “It was nothing.” 

Yuta unlocks the door. Taeyong steps out into the hallway, but he can’t bring himself to walk away. 

Yuta sighs, and opens his arms. He’s smiling. It doesn’t take a second for Taeyong to dive into a hug. He thinks this is the first time he’s hugged Yuta like this, tight and desperate, sober at least. Seconds tick, but Taeyong doesn’t let go. He only hugs tighter. He feels Yuta’s arms wrap around him, and it’s so comforting and _secure_ and Taeyong really doesn’t want to let go and–

“You should go now,” Yuta says quietly. There’s a tremble in his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed. Taeyong nods, hesitantly pulling back. He’s wearing a hoodie, but he feels cold. They don’t say anything else. Yuta tips his head, and then closes the door behind him. Taeyong stares at the wood in front of him, and then walks away. 

When Taeyong reaches his dorm room he crashes onto his bed and doesn’t move until night falls. The emptiness he feels is immeasurable. He still can feel Yuta’s breath on his neck and smell the fragrance of Yuta’s cologne. The tremble in his voice makes Taeyong’s heart ache. He ingrains the feeling of Yuta’s arms around him into the mind, but in all honestly he’s starting to forget how it felt. He just knows he wants more. 

It takes Yuta an evening to realize he likes Taeyong. It takes Taeyong much longer than that: two years of talking, moments of comfort during parties and a conversation with Doyoung to realize he likes Yuta too, and another sleepless night to realize he doesn’t want to let Yuta go. Not like this. 

He shakes Doyoung awake at six in the morning. Doyoung groans, burying his face his pillow even more than possible.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong whispers, “Wake up, wake up.”

“What the fuck”, Doyoung groans again when Taeyong yanks the covers away from him. He checks the clock and glares, “Are you out of your mind?”

“Yuta’s leaving today.” 

“Yeah? Yeah. Right, I remember. The party.”

“Are you sober?” 

“I’m a bit hungover. But I think, yeah.”

“Good,” Taeyong says, “Doyoung, you have to drive me to the airport.”

Doyoung sits up. “What?”

“Look, I have things I need to say to him. I can’t let him go like this... Or I will regret it for the rest of my life. I need you to help me. Please.”

“Okay. But you’ll do the dishes for a month,” Doyoung grumbles. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Deal.”

“Let me text Johnny for Yuta’s flight details.”

Taeyong waits anxiously for Johnny to reply. Doyoung shows him the message. “He says it’s at ten. He must’ve left for the airport by now.”

“Okay,” Taeyong breathes out, “Okay. Do you think we can make it?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, “We have plenty of time, even if there’s traffic. Go get ready.”

Taeyong gets ready in no time, feeling a sudden burst of energy. Or anxiety. He’s never felt as awake at the crack of dawn. He drags Doyoung out and Doyoung grumbles as he starts his car. 

The ride to the airport isn’t that long, but with each minute spent in traffic anxiety within Taeyong grows and grows. It’s at around eight in the morning when Taeyong feels on the verge of passing out. They’re stuck on a highway, have been for the past half an hour. 

“Relax,” Doyoung says. “We’re not running out of time.”

“But registration ends 45 minutes before the flight. People usually arrive to the airport early, around three hours early. The flight is in two hours, meaning the chances of Yuta being in Duty Free already are so high.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Just text him, idiot.”

“I don’t have his number,” Taeyong deadpans.

“The fuck?” Doyoung steers into another lane. Traffic starts moving. “You’ve known Yuta for a year or two and you don’t have his number? Your plan has many holes in it.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Taeyong says, “If anything, I don’t have your number saved either.”

“Wow,” Doyoung says. “Anyway, I’ll call Jaehyun. He’s the one driving Yuta, I think. I’ll tell them not to go anywhere.”

“Okay,” Taeyong exhales. He feels like he finally can breathe when Jaehyun’s confused voice says they’ve only reached the airport. 

After twenty minutes, at the airport parking, Doyoung says, “Yuta is at the entrance. Jaehyun said he’s staying behind to not disturb you both. So get your shit together, man.”

“I will.”

“Good luck.”

Taeyong nods, stepping out of the car. “Doyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

Doyoung flashes him a smile as he drives away. 

Taeyong runs to the entrance. He goes through a security check, then looks at the flight tabloid, then searches around for any white hair in the swarm of people in the place.

Yuta is easy to spot. He has that bright presence around him, which makes him instantly stand out from a crowd. It worked for Taeyong at parties, and it works now. He sees Yuta outside the queue for registration, looking at something on his phone.

Taeyong runs to him and hugs him from behind.

“What the–“ Yuta’s words die at the top of his tongue, “Taeyong?”

Taeyong clutches him hard. He thinks, if he hugs Yuta hard enough, Yuta will understand, the hole inside his chest will be filled.

“What are you doing here?” Yuta whispers.

“I...” Taeyong almost sobs, “I couldn’t let you go just like that. Not like this. Not on this depressing note. There are so many things I wanted to say.”

Yuta pulls away to turn around and face him. His cold hand touches Taeyong’s warm one. “Then say them.”

Taeyong thinks, he indeed hasn’t entirely thought this through. With his thoughts in a haywire, he doesn’t actually know what to say. 

“I’m bad with words...” he mumbles. 

“That’s okay.”

It pains Taeyong that Yuta is considerate even under these circumstances. He fiddles with Yuta’s fingers.

Yuta looks at him curiously. Taeyong tries to find annoyance or something negative in his eyes, but finds none. So, in a moment of hesitation, with his other free hand he grabs Yuta by the neck and pulls him into a kiss. 

Yuta makes a surprised sound, but he closes his eyes and kisses back. His hands go to Taeyong’s cheeks, and he pulls him closer.

When Taeyong pulls away, breathless, he says, “I suppose it’s too late to say this, and it’s probably selfish and unfair of me, but I don’t want you to go. I’ll miss you. I thought I knew what emptiness felt like before, but only now I realize what it is – will be – without you somehow around me. I like you, Yuta, I’ve liked you for a long time even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. God, I must be a huge asshole, but I just wanted to let it out. Wanted to let you know before it’s too late.”

Yuta kisses him again, and Taeyong tastes salt. He doesn’t know if it’s his own. He feels Yuta’s cold hands cradle the back of his head, his hot tongue prodding into his mouth; it’s exhilarating. 

“You are a huge asshole,” Yuta says, voice barely a whisper, “But it’s so romantic of you to show up like this. Even though I told you not to.”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong gulps, “I thought I had no time left. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I hadn’t kissed you just now.” 

“Oh, Taeyong,” Yuta says, “You’re making it hard for me to leave.”

Taeyong clutches Yuta’s hand. Yuta slots their fingers together, and they fit so nicely, Taeyong thinks, _why haven’t I done this sooner?_

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says again.

“Don’t you apologize,” Yuta says. “Honestly, I kind of expected you would come. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but in retrospect you’ve always given off the impression that you never wanted for me to stop asking you out.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong says honestly, “I was surprised by your persistence, but it wasn’t unwelcome.”

Yuta grins, “I thought so.”

The speakers announce boarding. “I really must go now,” Yuta says. “Or I’ll miss my flight.”

Taeyong squeezes their hands. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen when Yuta crosses the gate. 

“You’re overthinking,” Yuta says. He’s smiling, even though his eyes are a bit red-rimmed.

“Give me your number,” Yuta says, as if reading Taeyong’s mind, “for starters.”

“We should’ve done that long ago,” Taeyong jokes.

“Yeah. We should’ve talked like this a long time ago.”

“We should have...”

Taeyong watches Yuta enter his number on the phone. 

“This is your Korean number,” Taeyong points out. “What about your Japanese one?”

Yuta bites his lip. “Actually, I asked the company if I could complete my senior year here, too. So I‘ll only be staying in Osaka for three weeks to catch up with my family.”

“Oh.”

“I changed my mind last night,” Yuta scratches the back of his neck. He looks flushed. “I wanted to stay back myself. I really like it here. With you. And then you came over, and even though you didn’t say it, it looked like you didn’t want me to go.”

Taeyong hugs him tight. “I didn’t, but I couldn’t say it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“How would you be holding me back?” Yuta asks, “It has been my choice only to pursue you.”

“I know, but,” Taeyong mumbles, “You deserve someone better than me, I think.”

Yuta frowns. “And who are you to say whom I deserve or not? This isn’t a matter or deserving one another, it’s me liking you for who you are and wanting to be with you. Simple as that.” 

Taeyong says, overwhelmed, “Go out with me.”

Yuta’s smile is brilliant. “Okay. When I get back. I really have to go now. Registration is closing soon.”

“Okay.” 

Yuta moves to detach his hand but Taeyong pulls him close again. He kisses him slowly, savouring every aspect of Yuta, as much as time allows. “I needed to do it one last time.”

“Don’t say last,” Yuta laughs. “This is not the end.”

“Right.”

“This is just the beginning.”

Yuta nods and jogs to the registration desk. Taeyong watches him load his luggage and then sees him wave from the passport control desk. Taeyong waves back, and a smile blooms on his face when his phone dings with a notification from Yuta. 

_Yuta:_  
hi!!!  
i already miss you!!  
see you soon!!

Some beginnings, Taeyong thinks, start from the end.

**Author's Note:**

> the way yutae are bffs is this a river or my tears


End file.
